


Those Friends Thou Hast

by StarsCrackedOpen (Misthia)



Series: Things Carried, Unseen [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clone Trooper & Jedi Relationships (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Culture (Star Wars), Clone Troopers Speak Mando'a (Star Wars), Clone Wars (Star Wars), Comrades in Arms, Developing Friendships, F/M, Gen, Introspection, Light Angst, Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Protective CT-7567 | Rex, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29797584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misthia/pseuds/StarsCrackedOpen
Summary: “I’ll leave it to you, Rex,” said General Skywalker. “Choose a replacement gunner and I’ll sign off. I trust your judgment.” Beside him, Ahsoka beamed.“Thank you, sir,” said Rex, straightening. Skywalker turned to depart, and Ahsoka spun to wave as she followed him.“Don’t let them leave orbit without us, Rexter!”Or: In which Rex remembers the dead and safeguards the living — and willnottolerate disrespect towards his general or commander.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker/Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Series: Things Carried, Unseen [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839160
Comments: 24
Kudos: 101





	Those Friends Thou Hast

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. Missed you all! Trying to get these pieces done and posted — ever had the kind of writer’s block where you have a bunch of story ideas, but the words themselves aren’t really coming? Anyway, onto actual story notes:
> 
> Rated for overall themes and one particularly vile character who says something.
> 
> This takes place in the first couple months of S1 — so Ahsoka’s 14, Anakin’s 19, (and Rex is 10 or 11). It’s much more Rex-centric, but I’m including it in this collection because I think it fits thematically — it’s largely about his, Anakin’s, and Ahsoka’s dynamics, and also him observing Anakin and Ahsoka’s developing relationship.
> 
> There’s also a generous sprinkling of Mando’a in this piece, so a glossary will be at the end as to not spoil ahead of time, though I think contextually you’ll get the basic idea even without it. There is one phrase to know beforehand:
> 
> _“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum”_
> 
> “I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.” This is a daily remembrance of those passed on, followed by repetition of the loved ones' names. I believe this first came from the _Legends_ novels, which I know aren’t canon but it seemed to work here.
> 
> I do have more trouble with Rex’s voice than others, so if something seems very out of character, please let me know and I’ll try to improve it. There are a few spots in this that feel kind of unfinished that I might try to smooth out later.
> 
> As ever, I own nothing and make nothing from this; I just enjoy imagining what happened in this era that we didn’t see.

* * *

_“Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar._  
_Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,_  
_Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;_  
_But do not dull thy palm with entertainment_  
_Of each new-hatch’d, unfledged comrade.”_

_\- William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act I, Scene III_

* * *

The one constant in war was casualties, and Rex’s least favorite duty was reporting them to General Skywalker. When he brought the list to him the day following a drawn-out skirmish on Arbooine, the general was poring over datapads and flimsies in his and Ahsoka’s quarters aboard the _Resolute_. One name stuck out.

“Sixteen wounded, a dozen dead, sir. Including Weaver.”

The general sighed. “He was the best heavy gunner we had.”

Rex nodded. “He was. He’ll...be missed.” He’d been a friend.

Skywalker looked regretfully up at him, then pored over the list. He shook his head as he transferred the data to his own report. “I’m sorry, Rex.”

Rex didn’t answer — there wasn’t one needed. They were both used to this; it wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Skywalker went on, the mask of the general back in place. “We’ll need a new artillery specialist as soon as possible, and I want one with experience.”

“Yes, General. I’ll put together a list of candidates.”

“Let me know as soon as you have it. I’ll be catching up on reports. And hopefully,” he said, with a rueful smile, “sleep.”

A solemn nod. “Yes sir.”

General Skywalker handed the datapad back to him. “If there’s nothing else, dismissed.” Rex nodded again and started to turn when the general spoke again. “Make sure you get some rest too, Rex. I need you at one hundred percent. There’s no replacing you.”

Rex smiled now. “Yes _sir_.”

He went back to his bunk and spent some hours looking through personnel files. He came up with a list of a half-dozen promising candidates before obeying the command to get some shuteye.

Before he fell asleep, he went through his remembrance as he always did. In the dark he mumbled the words that formed the closest thing the clones had to a prayer, the roll call of fallen friends.

_“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum...”_

He added Weaver’s name to the list.

* * *

When he woke, he brought the list to Skywalker, who was on his third cup of caf in the mess and looking tired. Ahsoka sat across from him, blankly tapping away at something Rex guessed was an assignment. He’d been astonished to learn that a padawan was expected to keep up with their temple studies even in the field.

“As you requested, General. For a replacement gunner.” He handed the datapad to the general, who began to scroll through it.

General Kenobi’s voice came through the comm, tinny and faraway. _“Anakin, we’re ready to depart for the planetoid’s surface.”_ Skywalker sighed, downing the rest of his caf, then stood and keyed his own.

“On our way.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Rex, with some confusion. “I didn’t realize you were going down with the landing party.”

“Neither did we, until an hour ago. At least it should be quick.” General Skywalker glanced down at the datapad again, brow furrowing. After a moment his expression cleared, and he looked back up with a slight smile. “I’ll leave it to you, Rex,” he said, handing it back. “Choose one and I’ll sign off. I trust your judgment.” Beside him, Ahsoka beamed.

“Thank you, sir,” said Rex, straightening. The general nodded, and then beckoned to Ahsoka.

“Let’s go. Obi-Wan’s waiting for us.” Skywalker turned to depart, and Ahsoka spun to wave as she followed him.

“Don’t let them leave orbit without us, Rexter!”

He’d become fond of the _nehutyc_ kid. Rex chuckled and saluted.

* * *

By the time they’d returned, a full two rotations later, Rex had selected a new gunner. Forms completed, he brought the updated datapad back to the general’s quarters for him for sign-off and transmission. Rex hesitated, hand hovering over the chime. He’d waited a couple of hours after their return to come, to let them get settled after the unexpectedly extended mission. It occurred to him that maybe he should wait longer, but then the general had acknowledged that they needed a new gunner right away.

While he mulled it over, suddenly the door opened for him. There was General Skywalker, stretched out in his usual chair facing the door, hand raised.

Rex stepped inside, and with another wave of the general’s hand it _whoosh_ ed closed behind him.

He took in the room. Dirty footprints lead from the door to the small sitting area, which was apparently as far as they’d gotten. The general had his boots propped up on the low table, whereas Ahsoka had apparently kicked hers off below it. The table also held two grit-encrusted pairs of goggles and similarly dirty respirators. The general looked utterly exhausted, eyes bleary and red-rimmed as though he’d just woken up. Curled up in the corner of the couch adjacent to him was Ahsoka. She was fast asleep, a dusty brown cloak much too large to be hers laid over her like a blanket. The stripes of her montrals and markings of her face were dulled by the same dust, and her head was cocked at an awkward angle to rest on the arm of the couch. Rex lowered his voice.

“I’m sorry, sir. I just came by to drop this off.” He placed the datapad on the table. The general nodded tiredly. Like Ahsoka, he was covered in reddish brown silt, the skin not covered by the respirator and eye protection streaky and irritated. A touch of concern crept up. “You...both look like you’ve had a rough go of it.” Skywalker pulled his legs down stiffly, then pushed himself to his feet. As he moved, his clothes shed more sediment in a small cloud. He huffed, and Rex couldn’t tell if it was amused or rueful. Knowing the general, probably both.

“You could say that,” he said, glancing over at Ahsoka. “Thanks, Rex. I’ll transmit it first thing tomorrow.”

Rex nodded. “Good night sir.” As he turned to go, he saw Skywalker hesitate, then bend toward the couch and shake Ahsoka gently.

“C’mon, Snips, you’ll get sore if you stay like that.” She started, and mumbled something Rex couldn’t hear in reply. He felt a swell of protectiveness for them that had nothing to do with his breeding; in the moment, under the grime and exhaustion, they both looked startlingly young.

Or maybe they just looked their age; two teenagers worn and dirty and staggering to bed. Rex suddenly and not for the first time felt older than them — even though he was, in truth, _younger_ than both.

The “why” of this effect was clear, if not exactly simple. That didn’t stop it from sometimes feeling like a paradox, like one of the drawings they showed young clones on Kamino in testing — impossible lines, making impossible shapes, and while at first glance they looked like any other shape, you could trace their lines forever and they’d never make sense.

He left his young _jetiise_ to rest.

* * *

A week later, the new heavy gunner arrived — and not a moment too soon, as the _Resolute_ was to rendezvous with the fleet. The Separatists were once again making moves on Christophsis, and the 501st had a droid army to subdue.

When the trooper arrived on his transport, Rex went to meet him personally, and orient him as quickly as possibly. Given that he’d be needed immediately, Rex wanted to get a read on him.

“CT-8771, reporting for duty.”

Rex looked him over. Close-cropped hair, three parallel scars running across his cheekbone, a nose that looked like it had been broken before. “And you’re called?”

“Rake, sir.”

As they spoke, he found Rake was a little rough around the edges, even by Rex’s standards — but if he really was as skilled as his record indicated, it was worth it. Besides, most troops took a few rotations to adjust to a new assignment, and the troopers who did tours in Wild Space — where Rake had come from — had a reputation for roughness of manner. Not that anyone in the 501st was stranger to crudeness; it was just another way of blowing off steam.

Rake did need his blaster rifle recharged, and so Rex took him to the cargo bay. As they made their way to the armory, something caught his eye.

“There’s General Skywalker,” said Rex, nodding up at the catwalk where Skywalker and Tano were crossing. Rake looked up as they passed. They looked to be deep in conversation, and then Skywalker tapped her on the shoulder and they turned off and disappeared through a doorway. Rex caught the way the gunner’s eyes swept over the general and lingered on Ahsoka’s form. It prickled at the base of his skull and he filed it away. “Let’s keep moving. You’ll meet him before we land.”

They entered the armory, and Dogma greeted them from the corner where he sat cleaning a blaster rifle. The usual pleasantries were exchanged, and Rex retrieved a fresh plasma module and handed it to Rake.

Now reassembling his rifle, Dogma asked, “Have you met General Skywalker yet?”

“Just saw him, and...” Rake trailed off, clipping in the module and charging his blaster. “Who was the _mesh’la senaar_ with him?”

Behind Rex, the familiar _slide-click_ of rifle reassembly stopped, and his eyes narrowed. Sometimes new assignments to the 501st were surprised by the young Jedi apprentice — just as Rex had been at first. One or two had been incredulous at what she wore into open combat, when even the Jedi generals wore some armor. They learned quickly that she was a force to be reckoned with, and respected on her own merits.

None had ever flippantly called her a “pretty bird” before, but then Rake didn’t know who she was. That would be remedied _now_.

“That, _corporal_ , is your commander. She may be young, but Commander Tano’s fought side-by-side with us through some messy campaigns, just as General Skywalker has. She’s his apprentice.”

Rex expected surprise or maybe an apology, but instead Rake barked out a laugh. It made the back of Rex’s neck prickle again. Dogma glanced over at the captain, brow furrowing. The gunner went on.

“‘ _Apprentice_ ,’ eh? I see why he keeps her close, looking like that.” Rake leered, and it was ugly, but it paled in comparison to what came out of his mouth next:

“Doesn’t want anyone else taking a turn. Smart man. You know what they say about Togruta _dal_ —”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. Rex heard Dogma moving behind him but he was already there, one fist hooking into Rake’s chest plate, the other driving into his cheek. Rake dropped to the deck with a thud. Rex loomed over him, incandescent with rage.

“ _Shabuir!_ You’re lucky the general didn’t hear you say that,” growled Rex. “He would _kill_ you. Not that he’d need to — _Al’verde_ Tano could do it herself. She would have you in pieces before you could draw your _tracy’uur_ , _osi’yaim!_ ”

Under the quickly-purpling bruise, the clone’s face had gone bone-white. Rex wasn’t finished. He reached down and hauled Rake up to eye level, snarling. “ _Ni’duraa!_ ”

He hit him with a stunning Keldabe kiss. The headbutt laid the trooper back out on the deck, panting.

Rex looked down at him, righteous fury still coursing through him. There was disrespect and insubordination, and then there was _this_. To comment on the young commander’s appearance in such a manner was disgusting as it was; to imply that the general kept the commander as some sort of _bedslave_ was unforgivable. And _then_ the comment about Togruta and by extension Ahsoka—

That thought made the anger flare again and he tamped down the urge to strike the trooper once more. “I don’t know what was normal at your last assignment, and I don’t _care_. You’re in the 501st now, and if you disrespect either the general or the commander again, I’ll drop you out an airlock myself. _Tayli’bac?_ ”

“Yes sir,” said Rake, cheek shiny and swollen. “ _N’eparavu takisit._ ”

He started to get up, and Rex put a boot on his shoulder and pushed him back down. “That’s all?”

Rake blinked, and then understood. “ _Ni...ni ceta_.” It still wasn’t enough of an apology, and it wasn’t Rex who was owed one, but it would have to do for now. Rex took his foot off and stepped back.

“Dogma, take him to the medbay. I think he’s had enough _orientation_.”

Dogma was looking at Rake with open contempt. “Yes, sir.” He approached the other trooper, held out a hand, and hauled him to his feet roughly. “ _K’olar, shabla chakaaryc._ ”

“Rake.” Both he and Dogma stopped, and Rake turned slowly back around. Rex’s voice was ice cold now, rage replaced by steely calm. “The _only_ reason I’m not ending you now is because then I’d have to explain to General Skywalker why we’re short a heavy gunner down on Christophsis.” His eyes were flinty. “And if he knew what you’d said, he might use some _jetii_ trick to bring you back so he could kill you again himself.”

Fear flickered through the gunner’s eyes. “Y-yes. Sir.”

Under other circumstances, there would be more punishment for such an egregious transgression. But they had a rendezvous to make, and they needed all available heavy artillery for it. Rex nodded at Dogma, who shoved Rake through the door as they exited the armory. 

Rex inhaled, held, and then exhaled slowly. Crudeness was one thing, and coarse humor — but there were limits to joking, and there had been no joke in Rake’s words. No one in the 501st would ever _dare_ to make such a comment about either Ahsoka’s body or race, and certainly would _never_ accuse their commanding officer of something like that. Rex didn’t think it would even occur to them.

He wondered suddenly what the gunner might have seen in Wild Space to suggest such a thing that casually.

It wasn’t the time or place to speculate on such possibilities. Rex had a job to do. He left the armory and returned to his duties, trying to shake the taste of the encounter from his mouth.

* * *

Two hours later, a bacta patch on his mostly-healed cheek, Rake reported back to the cargo bay. Rex was standing with both the general and Ahsoka, who both looked pleased. General Skywalker turned to the newcomer. “So, Rex. This is our new gunner then?”

“Yes sir,” said Rex, the picture of professionalism, though seeing Rake again made his fist itch to give him a matching bruise on the other side of his face. “This is CT-8771. Rake.”

“Welcome,” said Ahsoka, smiling and extending a hand. Rake’s eyes flickered over to Rex for just a second, and then he took the proffered hand with a strained smile and thanked her.

Rex’s fingers twitched on one blaster. Skywalker’s gaze slid over to him, and Rex met it, careful to keep his face blank. While he was fairly certain the general couldn’t read his mind outright, he was clearly at least sensing the tension.

Said general handed the datapad he was holding to Ahsoka. “All right Ahsoka, take Artoo and finish the preflight checks.” She took the pad and nodded at Rake.

“Nice to meet you,” she said with another quick smile, and headed off with the chirping astromech droid.

Rex’s head snapped to Rake. “To your post.”

“Yes sir,” he replied, striding quickly in the other direction. Rex’s eyes bored a hole into his back as he did.

“Captain Rex.”

“Yes, General,” answered Rex as he turned.

Skywalker tipped his head in the direction of Rake’s retreating form. “Is there a problem I should know about?”

Rex would not lie. “It’s been handled, sir.” Skywalker regarded him for a moment, and then nodded, looking satisfied.

“Good, because we’re already behind schedule. Let’s move.”

“Yes sir.” The general nodded again and turned to follow Ahsoka. Rex went to make his own final checks before they hit atmo.

General Skywalker had said he trusted him, and it was a point of pride for Rex. His gut told him that Rake wouldn’t be any more trouble, and his gut was usually right.

But if Rake _did_ become a problem, he had been warned. It would not go far enough that Rex need trouble the general with it. He had Skywalker’s trust; he would tend to it himself.

_**Fin.** _

**Author's Note:**

> Glossary — from mandoa dot org, if you’re interested to look at a Mando’a dictionary.
> 
>  **Shabuir** — extreme insult, no direct translation given — but “jerk” doesn’t cover it  
>  **Al’verde** — commander  
>  **Tracy’uur** — blaster  
>  **Osi’yaim** — useless, despicable person  
>  **Tayli’bac?** — understand?  
>  **Ni’duraa!** — You disgust me!  
>  **N’eparavu takisit** — an apology, lit. “I eat my insult”  
>  **Ni ceta** — “I kneel” a rare form of apology, groveling  
>  **K’olar, shabla chakaaryc** — Come on, (you) screwed-up low-life (general term for unsavoury person of questionable ethics)  
>  **Jetii** — Jedi  
>  **Nehutyc** — feisty/gutsy
> 
> The word that Rake was saying before the righteous fist of Rex enlightened him to his folly could be a couple of things. “Dalyc” is “female,” “dala,” is “woman,” and “dalab” is scabbard or sheath (quite to the point, as it were — it’s not just Mando’a with such linguistic connections; so does English by way of Latin). So you see where he might have been going. I’m not 100% sure just how vile he was being, but I wouldn’t put much past him. He’d said quite enough at that point anyway, so Rex didn’t leave it to chance.
> 
> As ever, like it or hate it, please let me know! Comments make my day. Thanks for reading!


End file.
